


Zestfully Clean

by QueenofSchmoop



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Frottage, M/M, PWP, Season/Series 09 Spoilers, Shower Sex, Wincest-Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:19:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7068568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenofSchmoop/pseuds/QueenofSchmoop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The big locker room type showers in the MOL HQ gives Dean ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zestfully Clean

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from those old commercials.

Dean made a little noise of disgust as they walked through HQ. “I need a shower. No, I need 10 showers in a row just to feel mildly dirty again.”

Sam, who was walking beside him and was just as filthy from their latest hunt, laughed. “Then stop bitching and hit the showers.”

Dean grunted. “You coming?” He started off toward the shower room. 

“In a minute.”

He stopped and looked back. Sam was fiddling with something on the table, eyes averted. “Sam. C’mon, man. There’s room for the San Diego Chargers football team in that damn shower room. Even if you are a Sasquatch, there’s room for me and you to both be in there at the same time.”

Sam shot a look his way but Dean had already turned and was dropping clothes on the floor as he walked. He heard Sam bitching behind him but knew his brother was picking up the stuff he’d dropped. Hiding a smile, he was down to just his jeans when he stepped into the shower room. He wriggled out of them, heading to his favorite ‘stall’. Turning the water as hot as it would go, he stepped right up, ducking his head under the water. He let out a little sigh of happiness as the wetness hit him. He had just grabbed the soap to try to get some of this gunk off him when he realized there was no one beside him. He turned and saw Sam turning on the spigot of a ‘stall’ at least 3 down from his. 

“Sam,” he sighed.

“What?”

“Not even _you _need that much room, Gigantor.” He beckoned.__

“I figured--”

“Will you just come here?” Dean gestured to the spot next to him.

“Wanted to give you space,” Sam muttered, but he moved. 

“I’ve got enough of that. Besides, what if I need you to wash some part of me I can’t reach.” He was half joking. 

“Get a loofah, Dean.”

“A what? I swear, you are such a girl.”

“Says the guy who uses special smelling shampoo and takes 30 minute showers,” Sam shot back.

“Hey! That shampoo smells good and makes my hair look great. And long hot showers are a manly thing. Manly!”

“You keep telling yourself that.” But Sam was smiling as he said it, dipping his head under the water. 

Dean turned and felt his arm brush against Sam’s. He frowned as Sam jerked away. 

“This is why I wanted to give us room.”

“What? So we collide once in a while. Not like I got cooties,” he said, upset for reasons he couldn’t quite figure out. He saw Sam had stopped washing and was staring at him. “What?” He asked again. 

“Cooties? Really? What are you, five?”

“You’re the one who’s flinching away when you meet skin,” he shot back, ducking his head under the water in hopes of drowning out what he was sure was going to be a bitchy reply. He pulled out from under the deluge and turned. 

Sam was looking at him, a strange expression on his face. “I’m not.”

“Not what?” 

“I just…You know what? Never mind.” Sam turned and ducked his own head under the water, long hair flopping into his face. 

“No, say it.” Dean moved his bar of soap from hand to hand. 

“It’s nothing.”

He sighed. “Whatever. Do what you want, Sammy.” He was reaching for his shampoo when Sam’s hand reached out and touched his back. He turned, inquisitive. 

“I miss this. Being able to touch you, I mean.” Sam’s voice was low, his head down as if expecting Dean to hit him or say something horrible. “You used to touch me all the time. Now you never do.”

Shaken, Dean almost dropped the shampoo bottle. He set it carefully down on the nearby ledge. He didn’t know what to say. 

Sam shrugged. He went back to trying to get the whatever-the-hell-it-was out of his hair. Dean stood under the water, letting it drip off him, staring at Sam’s back. Then he reached out, palms touching the skin of Sam’s shoulders. He felt a shudder run through his brother but didn’t move his hands. 

“Sam?” He whispered the name. 

His little brother turned, blinking furiously. Dean was taken aback. Sam rarely cried, having been taught--both of them--that tears were a waste by their father. And to cry over something like this? Surging forward before he even knew it, Dean grabbed Sam into a hug, arms wrapping around wet skin. He felt Sam freeze then, all at once, just relax and give in. They held each other, under Sam’s spray, for what seemed like eternity. 

“Not gonna call me a girl?” Sam said against his neck at last. 

“No.” 

They stood there a bit longer. Then he felt Sam squirm and figured his bro was becoming uncomfortable with the hug. It wasn’t until he was pulling back that he realized what the problem was. He looked down, surprised. 

“Sorry,” Sam choked out. 

“I get it,” Dean said in an understanding voice. “Wet skin, it’s a turn on.” He stepped back, deliberately not looking at Sam’s erection. He grabbed that shampoo and poured way too much into his palm, scrubbing at his head hard, trying to ignore his own growing stiffie. He heard a noise from beside him and couldn’t help it. He looked. 

Sam looked miserable. And his cock was red and thick against his belly. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I didn’t want to stop. I mean, I--” He let out a frustrated breath. “Stupid body,” he said, looking down. 

Dean swept his hands through his hair one more time. “I told you, it’s okay, Sam. Bodies just know that wet skin is touching. It doesn’t get that the wet flesh belongs to your brother. Biological or whatever.” Truth was, he hadn’t wanted to stop hugging Sam either. It had felt good. Hell, the only time he and Sam seemed to do that was when one of them had just died or come back to life. Things had been rocky since the angels fell. Hell, since he’d gone to Purgatory. Sure, he and Sam had made up, but that closeness they had felt long ago had seemed gone. The hug had felt like a bit of healing. 

Sam wasn’t washing his hair or body. He was just standing there, water sloughing off him, looking despondent. Dean couldn’t take it anymore. He shut his own water off and stepped over to Sam’s spray. Watching his brother’s eyes snap up, he grabbed Sam’s soap. “C’mere.” He began to rub the bar over Sam’s body, feeling him tense then relax. 

“Dean.”

“Shut up.” He kept his touches gentle, lathering well. “You always miss this spot,” he said, touching the area between Sam’s shoulder blades. 

“Kind of hard for me to reach,” Sam told him, body limp and relaxed. 

“With those long arms of yours?” He set the soap aside and began cupping water and letting it skate over skin. “Turn around, Sammy.”

“I can’t.”

“Pretty sure you’re not stuck to the floor,” Dean quipped. 

“Dean--”

“Turn around,” he said again. It was not an order, nor a plea. 

Sam turned, head down. His raging hard on was still, well, raging. Dean looked at it. His hands skated down Sam’s chest. He heard the gasp. And the inhale when his hand came to Sam’s cock. 

Not looking up, Dean spoke. “Sam?”

“Yes,” came the instant reply. 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Whatever it is, the answer’s yes.”

Dean wanted to make a joke but he couldn’t. He forced himself to look up. He met Sam’s eyes. Eyes filled with worry, warmth and something else. Something Dean knew well. He moved his hand and touched his brother, the water helping to slick the way. Sam let out a noise. 

“Dean. Dean,” he gasped the name as Dean’s hand stroked him. “Jesus, I need to kiss you.”

Dean shivered, not because the water had cooled off--which it had. He felt Sam move and didn’t stop him. Their mouths met and Dean melted against his brother, hand trapped between their bellies. Holy shit, Sam could kiss! Their mouths worked against each other, Sam mapping out the taste of Dean’s mouth. 

“I can’t believe you’re letting me--”

Dean moved, pushing Sam back against the tiled wall. He pressed his body close, hands flat against the wall. Their erections rubbing wetly against each other. He dove back in for another kiss. Sam’s arms came up and hauled Dean to him, hands cupping his ass. They humped each other, hips jerking, orgasms ripping through them both without warning. Dean panted against the skin of Sam’s neck, some of that long hair tickling his nose. Sam had his head thrown back, breathing deep. 

Dean began to feel chilled. They were mostly out of the warm water now. But he didn’t want to move. He pushed his forehead against Sam’s chest. 

“Dean?”

He almost didn’t want to answer, to look up. It would mean facing what had just happened. Dealing with Sam and his emo. But Sam’s big hands were lifting his face. Their eyes met. Dean blinked. No anger, no shame, no fear. He felt himself gently pushed back and hissed. 

“Sorry. I know it’s cold. But we’ve got to get this,” Sam gestured downward, at the semen washing off both their bodies, “cleaned up.”

Dean nodded, afraid to speak. When they had gotten it all off, he stepped away. Or tried to. Sam’s hand reached out and caught his fingers. He turned, surprised. 

“Don’t get dressed, okay? Just put on a towel.” Sam’s cheek were faintly pink. “I don’t want to have to undress you again.”

He stood there, uncertain. “Sam?”

“Unless you don’t want--”

But he was moving, reaching behind Sam to turn the water off, then taking Sam’s hand and pulling him toward the sinks and benches where the towels waited. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He asked. “Best sex I’ve ever had and hell yes I want more.”

Sam burst out laughing, as Dean tossed him one of the towels. “Really? Best sex?”

Dean nodded, drying himself off. 

“And you don’t care?” He heard Sam ask softly. 

He didn’t have to ask what Sam meant. That it had been with his brother. That they had just committed incest. He turned and saw Sam looking worried. “No.”

“Why not?” Sam sounded plaintative. 

“Because,” he said, stepping closer and taking the towel away from his brother, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that God and his dickbag angels are fucking stupid. Except Cas,” he said. “So screw them and their rules.”

“Yeah but--”

He put his finger to Sam’s lips. “Sam, do we have to have a chick flick moment here? Or can we just go to bed and screw each other’s brains out?”

He felt the laughter against his fingers. “Such a romantic,” Sam said but his voice was filled with affection. 

Dean ran his thumb over Sam’s bottom lip. “I’ll show you romantic. Eventually. But for now, I want to take you to bed, Sammy.”

Sam exhaled. “Are you sure?”

“No, I’ve mistaken you for my other brother who is taller than a tree,” Dean snarked but he was smiling. He caught Sam’s hand and tugged lightly. “Your room or mine?”

“Not the table? Thought you’d want kinky sex,” Sam said, worry still in his eyes. 

“Eventually,” Dean said, leading him out of the shower room. “We’ll christen every damn surface in this place.”

“That’ll take forever,” Sam protested. 

“Yeah? So?” Dean waggled his eyebrows. 

Sam let out a laugh. 

“But first, I want you in my bed,” Dean said, letting his voice get low. He smirked. “Let’s see if the memory foam remembers **that **.”****

Sam burst out laughing, letting himself be led toward Dean’s bedroom door. “I love you,” he said, then froze, his eyes filled with fear. 

Dean turned, meeting Sam’s gaze. They were standing in the hallway of this massive place that was their newly discovered legacy. They were both naked, mostly dry after their showers. His hand was still tangled with Sam’s. He pulled his brother closer. His other hand came around Sam’s back. “If after everything I said back in that church,” he said softly, “you don’t think I love you too, then you really aren’t the smart one, Sammy.” 

Sam shook a little. 

“Come to bed with me, Sam. I’ll show you just how much I do love you.” He led Sam to the door, pushing it open with his legs, still facing Sam. He let go of Sam’s hand and stepped back, turning as he did so. He began to head toward the bed. Looking back over his shoulder, he smiled sensually in invitation. “You coming?”

He grinned as Sam came in, shutting the door behind him. 

 

End


End file.
